In my previous career, as a Shanghai-based publisher of English-language magazines, I banned my editors from using the word expat. It implied a sense of "them and us" which I despised. Nor did I much respect members of the "international community" (as I preferred to call them) who spent their summers back home. We live and learn. I've just returned to China after my longest-ever summer break in Britain, and I now eat my words about expats. My holiday has left me feeling more refreshed than I have felt in years, mainly thanks to the pleasure (particularly acute for an ex-publisher) of life in a liberal society with a free media, where you can drive to the pub listening to Radio 4 and have a good argument when you get there. Or you can buy a magazine like Prospect, whose editors get ministers, intellectuals, generals and so on to speak their minds and then do the arguing for you. That doesn't happen in China, or if it does, there's a hidden agenda. An outspoken proponent of democracy in Beijing is widely assumed to be a plant. He was in the news on our return for supposedly stirring things up again. Yet how can you debate such a subject when the population under a certain age has no knowledge of a world-famous incident that happened 21 years ago in a certain city square? See how I've picked up the habit of self-censorship? I should go home more often. THE EXPO'S REAL ATTRACTION My family and I visited the World Expo in Shanghai with my godson William, who had accompanied us back from Britain. Shanghai is immaculate. Not a streetlight out of place. Around the Expo site the roads appear tooth-brushed, metal barriers gleam, and the traffic flows like water. "Why are those people marching?" asked William, who is 14, pointing at a passing phalanx of security girls. "That's how they do things here." I said. "See how they are all the same height and have exactly the same hairstyles?" The Expo was crowded with Chinese people on package tours. They had come from all over the country to see the world on their doorstep. The rare foreign visitors were as much an attraction as the pavilions. William, who is fair-haired and five foot ten, stood out, as do my children. While my wife Joanna and I were distracted by an urgent phone call, just outside the Ecuador pavilion, the children were swamped by the crowd. I had to fight my way back to them. A woman had picked up my five-year-old son and was posing for a picture beside William, who was politely playing along. There was a queue for photographs forming. I broke it up with ill grace—the call meant that I had to leave. There are concerts and performances every evening at the Expo. I'm told that's the best thing about it—Shanghai has some culture at last, even if only for half a year and imported. I'm sorry I missed that. INTENSIVE CARE IN HANGZHOU I had to leave the Expo because one of my friends was critically ill. He was visiting China on business and had been taken to intensive care in Hangzhou, the nearest city to Moganshan. His family were on their way from Britain, but might not arrive in time. I had to get there fast. With the help of a new traffic system set up for the Expo, it took me a record two hours. My friend had acute pancreatitis and was unconscious. I was allowed to sit with him. He made it through the night and his parents and sister arrived the next day. During the following week, he fought for life. The hospital staff were outstanding and my friend's local colleagues brought in the top specialist from Shanghai. Everyone did everything they could. Peter Freeland died on 30th July. The staff of the ICU wept. The grief and shock of Peter's family were exacerbated by the strangeness of their surroundings. They had never been to China, and they didn't want to be here for this sudden tragedy. A few days later I brought Peter's parents and sister to my home in Moganshan. We watched the sun set from the mountaintop tea plantation and ate dinner under the stars. It was an emotional evening. The village was built by foreigners a hundred years ago as a sanatorium, a place to recover from the stress of Chinese life. Missionaries suffering nervous breakdowns were regular visitors. For Peter's grieving family Moganshan proved it still has the power to heal, if only a little.
